I’m Sorry


I had another panic attack today. For me, a panic attack is something that comes out of no where. And anxiety attack is built up. Panic attacks reach their high point fairly quickly, then subside leaving you drained and crying. Anxiety attacks build up slowly, crying the whole time, and then slowly calms down. 

This panic attack seemed to come out of no where, although it was caused by my forgetting to take medication last night. To someone who doesn’t know me, this attack looked like it was about something unimportant. Something that shouldn’t have even bothered me. 


This panic attack ran deeper. It ran down to my core, my soul. Anxiety used my past against me. And all I could do was say that I was sorry. 

It started out as something small, why isn’t he texting me back? And it grew. It grew into the larger problem. The problem hiding behind my insecurities. My abuse. 

I’m sorry, I said it out loud I don’t know how many times. I must have done something, something terrible. To be treated the way I have been, to be made to feel this way, it only makes sense that I had done something horrible. Right?

I have no clue what I did to deserve this. My logical mind is telling me I did nothing, it’s the problems of others. But right now, I can’t comprehend that thought. There must have been something. 

What did I do? What in the hell did I do to deserve this?

To be told that I deserved to be raped. 

To be told that I am worthless. 

To be told I am a slut. 

To be told to go to hell. 

To be told that I am a bitch. 

To be told that I am a worthless waste of pussy. 

To be told I am a whore. 

To be pushed down to the ground. 

To have a cane thrown at. 

To be grabbed by my hair and drug around.

To be led to believe I am meaningless. 

To be told I am ungrateful. 

To be told I do not care about anyone. 

To be told that there’s no wonder I don’t have friends. 

To be told that all of this was right all along. 

To have it be as though it was proven to be true. 

To be forgotten about. 

To be cheated on. 

To be lied to. 

To be raped.

To be taken advantage of. 

To be ignored. 

What in the fuck did I do to deserve to be abused? 

To be made to have severe panic. 

To be made to have an illness that wants to kill me. 

To be made to have a brain that doesn’t function normally. 

To have to still suffer from things that happened years ago.

To not be given a life full of joy but one full of suffering. 

To not have someone to hold my hand through all of this. 

To be made easy to leave. 

To be made to be put aside. 

To be made to believe that hate, pain, lies, and abuse actually means love. 

What did I do to deserve to be hated by many? 

Where the fuck did I go wrong?


A woman can only be so strong until she breaks. I know I am not completely alone, but it sure as hell feels like it. I know I have support, a wonderful group of friends, but at the moment I can’t see that. I can’t see anything remotely good. All I see are the terrible things people have done to me. All I can see are the ways they’ve fucked me up. “You’re just a hot mess.” Yes, that’s all I am. A hot mess. 

-Liz

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America, What Have You Done? 


I am a Christian, I am a Navy Brat, I am a Republican, and I am afraid. I am also an abuse survivor, a woman, I have mental health issues, and I am a survivor of rape. I am truly ashamed in America at this current moment. 

While I must say, I’m not a fan of either candidate, nor did I vote for either one, I’m not sure we elected the “lesser evil.” I know many Christians who voted for this sorry excuse of a man. And I am ashamed.

Why am I ashamed and even hurt by this election? Because it’s a slap in the face to all of us who have struggled. My own parents voted for Trump, and they don’t know how badly that hurt me. 

He sexually assaults women, he hates people of color (even though he’s not white, but orange), and he makes fun of people with disabilities. My own mother, a woman who’s disability was once denied in court, voted for a man who at the beginning of this election openly made fun of people with disabilities. 

By allowing such a person to be our president, it shows that my faith in humanity was way overestimated. This shows that the majority of America still believes that “men will be men” and it is okay for vulgar “locker room” talk. It shows we do not care for people unlike us, it shows hate and anger. It says to me, America doesn’t care that you were raped. It says to me, America doesn’t want to help those in need. It says to me, mental abuse will continue in this country for many years to come. 

I don’t want the next generation to look up to such a person that was once in a Playboy video. Hell, the man couldn’t even help a boy lost alone in New York. Sorry, I use humor in times of pain. But nonetheless, I am afraid that young men will grow up continuing to believe it is okay to treat women with such disrespect. 

I do not have a child, but the fear I feel already for them is great. I can’t imagine what those with children feel like today as they watch such a disgusting person become president. 

I will respect from now on, that he is my president. I can’t change that, and I honestly hate to show any disrespect to anyone. Even someone so vulgar and disgusting as him. 

The only way to fight this hate that’s taken our country, is to show it love.

Love. Trumps. Hate. 

-Liz

When You Finally Realize it’s Not Your Own Voice¬†


For years, I’ve struggled with the negative thoughts, or “voices” in my mind. The words coming from myself and my mother were the hardest to accept. The ones from others were tackled over time. It took me 10 years to realize I needed to begin work on the negativitiy from myself and my mother. But, after writing my last blog post, I realized that it may not be my mental health issues that caused me problems last night. I think there might be another trail of negative thoughts left behind from someone else. 

While I’ve taken every step possible to create distance from me and my toxic ex, his words are still engraved in my mind. I finally realize just why I was so uncomfortable last night. And God, do I wish I could have recognized it sooner. 

My ex had a difficult time understanding my social personality. I’m closed off, I don’t do well in groups of people, especially ones full of people I don’t know. I resort back to being as shy as I was in high school and earlier. I get quiet, and when I try to say something, it comes out wrong. 

He instilled in my mind that I come off as a bitch to the friends of the person I’m interested in. My ex’s best friend hated me so much at first, he tried to break us up. He won. After a while, his best friend understood I actually was cool, I just didn’t come off that way at first. However, my ex remained extremely hesitant to introduce me to people in fear I would be a bitch. He refused to introduce me to people. He told me I was a stuck up Arizona city girl with a bitchy attitude. He made me believe it. I didn’t even know until now that I believed him. 

Last night, I was so concerned with trying to make the perfect impression that I probably did come off as a bitch. Why? Because I was listening to my ex’s voice in my mind. Still haunting me. I’m not exactly sure how I’m going to get over this one. Hopefully, the guy I went out with continues to talk to me and remains in my life. Hopefully, he will give me a chance to warm up to him. Hopefully, he will let me explain. All I can do is hope. Even though, he asked if I wanted to possibly hang out for a third day in a row, I still feel like I fucked up. 

But, what I want to say is this: I know who I am. 

  • I’m caring
  • I’m loving
  • I’m happy
  • I’m funny
  • I’d do anything for someone that matters to me
  • I love deeply
  • I’m kind
  • There’s not an ounce of me that is hateful (yeah, I strongly dislike a few people)
  • I’m genuine
  • I’m a smart ass
  • I’m just plain smart
  • I’m talented
  • I’m deserving of love
  • I’m deserving of respect 
  • I’m not a bitch.

-Liz

A Letter to the “Man” Who Called Me Crazy

*This post contains subject matter that may be a trigger. Again, I am not a danger to myself or others. I had my therapy appointment yesterday. I encourage everyone to seek professional help.*


Dear man child,

“You seem obsessed… it’s kinda scary.” “You’re just so attached to me. I hope you find the right doctor.” “You’re crazy.” Those are the words you said to me. Those are the words I want to thank you for. Had it not been for those words, I would have cried myself to sleep last night wondering why you can’t see that I care for you.

Something in me snapped last night. When I read those simple words, “You’re crazy” I got myself back. Anyone who truly cares for me would never call me crazy. And I knew in that moment I was not only in a battle against you, but a battle against my own self. A battle I was desperate to win.

See, the past few weeks I’ve been waiting around for someone to save me. I begged my friends, anyone to do something to save me. I couldn’t find my strength. When you showed back up I began to feel anxious. Not because I’m attached to you, but because for so long I’ve felt there is no escaping you. You always show back up, it’s just a matter of time. You’ll find me again, I know it. Whether you’re searching for me on social media, or I run into you one day, I know this isn’t the end of our story. And that’s okay.

It’s okay because you no longer have power over me. I made that clear to you last night. I told you that if you contact me again, I will get the law involved. And damn, am I serious. I’m not going to stand for emotional abuse any longer. You’re gone, I’m not afraid to get rid of anyone else who tries to drag me back down. You helped me find my strength again.

Now, I want to show the world just what a crazy, badass, strong woman looks like who has been through abuse. Physical, mental, and sexual abuse. Someone who has come out strong after this, but still seems to be weak every now and then.


This is what strength looks like when you have so little of it left. It’s a bandage to hide a new scar. It’s a shirt that hasn’t been washed in weeks. It’s a light makeup application with bright lipstick to make it seem like I put effort into how I looked. It’s a cigarette in anticipation of what’s coming next. 

You didn’t message me at all yesterday, and I’m thankful for that. Well, until last night, anyway. You gave me a chance to live my day. I went to my therapy appointment, this photo was taken beforehand. This photo was minutes before I would tell my therapist that I was self harming again. Before I would tell him you’ve shown back up. Before I would look him in the eyes and say, “I’m not doing so good.”


This is a woman ashamed of her scars. This is me after I found myself again. Waking up to a new day, with a reminder of the past. Which is all you are to me now, the past. I am ashamed because I let someone who cares so little have so much control over my state of mind. I let you drive myself to depression. I let you make me feel numb again. All of my emotional energy was being drained into our conversations. 

Now, I’ve gotten my emotional energy back. I can feel the pain of this scar, and it doesn’t feel good. I can feel the love in my heart for myself, and that does feel good. I can feel the stress of having to get work done, and it suprisingly feels great.

 I have battle wounds, battle scars. And that’s okay. It shows just how strong I am. That I can at one moment be so broken, and the next pick myself back up again. With the help of my God, my friends, and myself I will not fall. I may stumble again, but it won’t be because of you. I keep a screenshot of last night’s conversation to remind myself of how strong I need to be.

 I have not blocked your number, for I’m not hiding anymore. When I change my number, I will not give it to you. If you find me again, I will not be hurt by you. The moment you called me crazy, I lost all sympathy for you. I lost all respect for you. 

I do, however, still care. I told you that my friend and I would pray for you this week, and I will continue to do so. I will not contact you. I will not lower myself to make you feel better. My life begins now, as free as a bear in the wild. I’m coming back out of hibernation. And this time I will enjoy the sunlight on my face.

Stay strong, take care of yourself. But don’t you dare make another human being feel as worthless as I allowed you to make me feel.

-Liz